Familial Ties
by tejeca
Summary: The reader is told they are adopted, only to find out that the Winchesters are her brothers.


"You're adopted." _That's _what they wanted to tell you? On your _birthday?_ Your _seventeenth birthday _is when they decided to tell you? You can't believe it. You're standing in the kitchen glaring at your parents. You can hear the sound of the music blasting outside. Your party. How can you go back out there? You're so pissed of at this point that you think you might explode. You need to be alone.

You turn your back and run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Tears overflow from your eyes. How could they do this to you? How could they lie to you for your whole life? "Y/N!" your mom calls. You faintly hear your dad telling her to leave you alone for a while. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed. After about half an hour, you hear the music turn off. Mom and Dad must have sent everybody home. Good, now you can concentrate on your thoughts. You think back on your life: your birthday parties, your little brother's baseball championships, the accident. . . the accident! When you were eight, you had been in a horrible accident. You had amnesia, and you've never been able to remember anything before you woke up in the hospital.

Does the accident have something to do with this? You're about to get up and talk to your parents when you hear a knock at your door. "Come in," you say. Your mother and father walk in.

"Hey sweetie," Dad says. "We just want to explain. You didn't give us the chance to finish."

"Alright, go ahead." You really do want to know why they never told you.

"We adopted you after your accident," says Mom. You knew it. "You were only eight, and nobody came to claim you. I was the nurse assigned to your care, and I couldn't bear to see a child without her family, so I talked to your father and we decided to adopt you."

"So, after the accident, you lied to me and said you were my parents?" That came out a lot harsher than you intended, so you apologize and ask, "You don't know who my actual family is? Not that you guys aren't my family, just, I'm curious. Why would they leave me?" Somehow you knew that whoever your family was, they wouldn't just leave you.

"We've searched," says Dad. "We haven't been able to find anything about your family except for a name." He pulls out a locket. "You were wearing this when you got to the hospital." He hands you the locket, and you can faintly see an engraving on it: _Winchester_.

"I – I've heard this name before." But where? Is that your last name? Winchester?

"You have?" asks your mom. Emotion flickers behind her eyes. It's like a sad sort of excitement. "Can you remember anything?"

"No, not really." You look around your room. Your collection of AC/DC cd's lines the wall next to your desk. They're sorted by year. You suddenly feel claustrophobic, as if the walls of your bedroom are closing in around you. This is too much information. You need to get out. "Umm, do you mind if I take a walk? I need to clear my mind."

"Sure sweetie. Just don't stay out too late. Your mother will get worried," your dad jokes.

You grab your jacket and walk out into the crisp fall weather. Walking down the sidewalk, you can see your breath in the cold air. You've always loved fall. That's one thing you know for sure about yourself. What else? You love classic rock, your favorite food is pie, you're in the top ten in your class, and you are exceptional at karate. At least you know that much about who you are. You keep walking, listing things you know about yourself. You realize you're across the street from the park. It's getting late, so the park's practically deserted. Maybe swinging on the swings will help you clear your mind. You decide to give it a try, but as you're crossing the street, a shiny black Impala comes speeding around the corner.

…...

"Dean, look out!" Sam yells. Dean slams on the brakes and swerves, desperately trying to avoid hitting the girl in his path. Despite swerving, the car still clipped her. When they come to a stop, Sam and Dean both jump out of the car and rush to the where the girl is sitting in the road holding her leg where the car hit her.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks.

…

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say. Your leg hurts where the front fender of the Impala hit you, but otherwise, you're fine. You look up at the men. They seem familiar.

"Wait a second," says the tall one, "Y/N, is that you?" The other one – the prettier one – hits him, almost as if he had just told you a huge secret.

"H – How do you know my name?" you ask, even more confused.

"Good job dumbass," the pretty one mutters to the tall one, "she's not supposed to know!"

"What aren't I supposed to know? Why does this keep happening to me? First my parents tell me I'm adopted, and then two random men almost run me over and say they know me! I'm tired of secrets!"

"Your parents told you?" asks the tall one.

"Yeah. Let me guess, you know, too. Oh, wait, what's more, you're probably my long-lost brothers from Kansas or something." The pretty one opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, "Save it. I don't care. Just leave me alone." You storm off into the park.

After a couple steps, you feel somebody's hand on your elbow. "Y/N . . ." It's the pretty one. You spin around and punch him square in the jaw.

"Don't touch me!' you scream. You're ready to fight. You're fed up with these guys, with everything.

"Okay, okay. Just let me talk, please?" He's almost pleading with you. "You weren't wrong."

"What do you mean?" you ask, puzzled.

"About us knowing you. We know you're adopted, and we know your name because, as crazy as this sounds, we actually _are _your brothers." You're about to ask another question, but it's your turn to be cut off. "Let me finish. My name is Dean Winchester. The tall guy over there is Sam. We're hunters, and so are you. Nine years ago, you got hurt real bad, and it was my fault. When we found out you didn't remember anything, not even us, we decided it would be best if we let you live a normal life. We did it to protect you."

When he said the name "Winchester," your hand instantly shot up to the locket around your neck, the one your parents had given you earlier. Dean's eyes follow your hand to the locket. "You still have it?"

"My dad gave it to me today when he and my mom told me I'm adopted," you tell him. You shiver; whether because of the chilly weather or the strange events of the past couple hours, you're not sure.

"Let's get you somewhere warmer," says Dean. "Should we take you home, or do you want something to eat first?"

"I'm _starving_," you say. You haven't eaten anything since lunch. "It's late, but there's this nice joint a few blocks over that has the _best_ apple pie."

Dean's face lights up at the mention of pie. "Let's go, then!" he says.

…


End file.
